


feverish

by wo_osan



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alpha San, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, NO mpreg or knotting, Omega Verse, Sexual Tension, but also super tropey lmao, consent is key folks, omega wooyoung, some trope subversion???, wooyoung literally hates those labels tho, yeah here i fuckin go again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26300857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wo_osan/pseuds/wo_osan
Summary: “I think it’s great that we’ve been able to prove alphas and omegas can be just friends and nothing more,” Wooyoung says, cringing a little at his own words.“Yeah,” San replies, tone flat, not looking up from his phone. “It’s great.”or: abo woosan with tons of mutual pining and wooyoung unexpectedly going into heat in the middle of campus.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 183
Kudos: 550





	1. sweet like cinnamon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy. here we go. warning in advance for nsfw content and mutual pining thats going to make u wanna tear ur hair out, but in a good way (hopefully?). enjoy!

“Wooyoung! I’m leaving without you!”

“I’ll be two minutes!” Wooyoung calls in reply, rummaging desperately through the many little cardboard boxes in his bedside table drawer.

Knowing San, he’d definitely wait even if Wooyoung took longer than two minutes. But then Wooyoung would have to put up with his whining when they were inevitably late to class, and San would probably make a massive deal out of it even though their professor doesn’t really give a shit.

“You said that five minutes ago!”

“Okay, twenty seconds, then!” Wooyoung yells back, pulling the whole drawer out and tipping it upside down, letting the small boxes tumble out onto his carpet.

He’s sure he’d still had suppressants left. Since he only picks up new batches three times a year, sometimes it’s hard to keep track of how many of them he has at any given moment, but he’s only due to get restocked in two weeks and there should definitely be some _fucking_ suppressants left somewhere. But all the boxes that used to be filled with little blue pills are completely empty.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, double checking his desk drawer and even the emergency shelf he always keeps an extra dose on. But he’d used that dose a few weeks ago when he’d been too drunk and lazy to open a new box – those things are an absolute nightmare to unwrap – so the shelf is empty.

_Okay. This is fine._

Technically, he knows he can go up to three days without suppressants before a heat would kick in. And he definitely has time in the next three days to take a quick trip to the hospital and get stocked up, or maybe even get an emergency shot to postpone his heat if necessary. Medicine has come far since medieval times, when omegas would be forced to go into heat every four months, essentially rendering them useless for up to two days, unable to think of anything except how much they wanna get fucked. By an alpha.

Wooyoung has heard many horror stories about heats, but - like most omegas his age - he’s never had to actually experience one. With the introduction of heat suppressants, omegas can live completely normal lives and not have to worry about their horniness levels interfering with daily activities. Even mated omegas usually chose to stay on suppressants, with rare exceptions. At this point, society has evolved enough that the term ‘omega’ is just a label.

A fucking stupid one, in Wooyoung’s humble opinion.

“Jesus Christ, Wooyoung!” San voice sounds impatient. “I’m literally leaving without you, right now.”

Wooyoung knows that if he told San the real reason behind why he’s running so late, the other would definitely be concerned and probably try and help in any way possible. But that’s the only thing he would never feel comfortable sharing with San. Unlike Wooyoung’s other closest friend, Yeosang, who’s an omega, San had presented as an alpha. Which basically only really means that he takes a different type of suppressants to Wooyoung.

There’s some other scientific facts about how presenting as an alpha versus as an omega affects one’s general disposition and personality, like the fact that an omega on suppressants almost completely loses all ability to smell pheromones and thus identify what other individuals presented as, whereas an alpha on suppressants still retains that ability, but Wooyoung had never really payed much attention to any of that during his high school classes. He’ll stand by the fact that the stereotypes about omegas are bullshit. And alphas too, since San is nothing like the dominant, macho personalities that society seemed to expect.

And, of course, the most scientifically uninteresting are betas, which make up the majority of the population. Barely anything changes after one presents as a beta, although Wooyoung firmly believes that being an omega on suppressants is almost equivalent to being a beta.

Wooyoung can hear San make an exasperated noise in the corridor, so he has no choice but to abandon the futile search for his daily dose of suppressants, resolving instead to make an appointment with his doctor for as soon as possible. He grabs his bag and jacket off the floor, adjusting his cap with the other hand.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” San says, shoes on and standing in front of the door with an unimpressed expression.

Wooyoung and San had agreed to move into an apartment together after their first year of university, during which they had become friends almost immediately after meeting in their classes. And now, two years later, Wooyoung’s never regretted that decision.

“Sorry,” he says as he tugs on his sneakers. “I was looking for my phone.”

“Find it faster next time,” San mutters, opening the door and swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Wooyoung loves that San has a car, and a driver’s license, both of which Wooyoung is not in possession of. It also means that instead of having to take the bus to campus, he has the luxury of bumming a ride off San (although he always makes sure to insist on splitting the gas bill).

But, even with the car, they’re late to class.

And San makes a big deal out of it, obviously.

“I would’ve been on time if I hadn’t stood around for fifteen minutes, waiting for you,” San says as they walk towards the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

“The professor didn’t even care,” Wooyoung points out. “And three others were later than us.”

“It’s the _concept_ that matters.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Whatever,” San says, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. “I still owe you money for the beers last weekend, so I’ll get you lunch. What do you want?”

Wooyoung turns to look at him. “What? No, don’t worry about the beers-” 

“Dude, it’s fine,” San interrupts. “Do you want what you usually get?”

Wooyoung nods, and San shoots him a smile over his shoulder as he walks off towards the food counter. It’s the kind of smile that makes something in Wooyoung’s chest tighten, but he quickly glances away and starts heading over to where Yeosang is sitting with some of their other friends.

Sometimes, not thinking too deeply about these types of things is key. Wooyoung will keep reminding himself of that until the message sticks: San is his best friend, and therefore off limits. He just wishes his body would get the memo, so that he could have San smile at him without experiencing an immediate spike in his heart rate, because it’s inconvenient and annoying and at risk of screwing up everything between them.

“Hey, what’s up,” he says as he slides into the seat next to Yeosang. 

“Finally,” Yeosang says, budging over to make some extra room. “Where the hell were you guys?”

“Sorry, San wanted to talk to the professor about something and I had to wait for him.”

It’s an unspoken rule between them that they always walk to lunch together, even when they have separate classes and it would probably be easier to just meet in the cafeteria. Wooyoung doesn’t know when that had started, but, at this point, not waiting for San just isn’t an option, and all their friends have come to expect that they’ll arrive together.

“You’re coming to the party tonight, right?” Yeosang says without preamble, never one to beat around the bush. Especially when it comes to partying.

“What?” Wooyoung had definitely forgotten about that. Which isn’t great, because he’d been planning on making a last-minute appointment with his doctor to get a dosage of suppressants.

“You can’t bail, it’s Yunho’s pre-birthday birthday party.”

“Pre-birthday… what?” Wooyoung asks, confused. “I thought he’s having a party on his actual birthday?”

“He is,” Yeosang says like it should be obvious. “But he’s also having a pre-birthday celebration. And probably a post-birthday celebration, too.”

Wooyoung quickly does the math in his head of how many days he has before he’d go into automatically triggered heat after going off suppressants. He should have at least three, according to what he’d read, and if he goes to the party tonight then he’d be able to go to the doctor’s after class tomorrow and everything would be fine.

“Yeah, I can’t believe I forgot about that. I’ll be there,” he says.

As he glances towards the food stalls to check where San is with their food, Wooyoung spots one of the boys from his course shooting him looks from one of the tables. He looks away immediately when he catches Wooyoung’s gaze, and Yeosang gives an amused snort from beside him.

Wooyoung shoots him a questioning look. “What do you think that was about?” he asks.

“It’s obvious, don’t play dumb,” Yeosang said with an eyeroll as he takes a bite of his sandwich. “That guy likes you, but he – like pretty much everyone – thinks you and San are a thing, so he doesn’t wanna make a move because of that.”

Wooyoung sputters indignantly, trying to ignore the weird jolt in his stomach. “San and I aren’t a thing!” he hisses.

“Well, clearly I know that. Everyone else doesn’t, though, and quite frankly I’m surprised you weren’t aware.”

“Yeah, Wooyoung,” Mingi chimes in from across the table. “You always smell like San, even now. It’s not an unreasonable conclusion to draw.”

Mingi’s an alpha, which means that he’s sensitive to smells even while on suppressants. The rest of their friend group, who are all presumably still in class, are betas. Wooyoung wishes they were here right now, because Mingi’s usually more reluctant to discuss this sort of thing in their presence. Much like San, he’s not at all like a stereotypical alpha; instead, he’s surprisingly friendly and cute despite his intimidating height and stature.

Yeosang, on the other hand, has a strange fascination with anything related to alphas and omegas, paired with a love for talking about such matters. Which is unfortunate for Wooyoung, since he’d rather just… not do that.

“That’s a side effect of living together.” Wooyoung says, feeling his face warm under the amused looks Mingi and Yeosang are giving him. “It’s stupid that people think just because he’s, you know, an alpha and I’m-” he despises even saying the words, but forces them out anyway, “an omega, that we can’t be just friends.”

Yeosang’s tone is more gentle when he says, “Wooyoung, the reason people think you guys are a couple isn’t because of _that_. It’s because you’re attached at the hip and are genuinely the clingiest people I’ve ever met. I mean, he’s literally getting you lunch right now.”

“He owed me money!” Wooyoung protests, but he knows it’s a lost cause. And if he’s completely honest with himself, even he can admit that he sees why people might assume he and San are together.

But they’re not, and that’s what’s important.

Luckily, before Yeosang can reply, San starts walking towards them, holding two sandwiches and a can of Wooyoung’s favourite cherry coke. Wooyoung elbows Yeosang to indicate that the conversation is over, trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

This is why he hates thinking too hard about things like this. He and San are best friends, proving that alphas and omegas don’t necessarily need to fuck just because of some stupid biological pre-programmed instinct, and that’s that.

* * *

San can smell that Wooyoung is home before he even steps through the doors to their shared apartment. He doesn’t know how to describe Wooyoung’s distinctive scent, just that he’s become so subconsciously aware of it that he can immediately tell when Wooyoung is nearby, far more so than with any other omega he knows.

And when he isn’t nearby, something feels, well, wrong. But he doesn’t like acknowledging that to even himself, because the implications are something he doesn’t wanna have to deal with. Especially since things are so great between them right now.

He’d once asked Mingi – the only other alpha in their friend group, and that he’s close to in general – whether there’s something different about Wooyoung’s scent compared to other omega pheromones.

Mingi had said, “Well, yeah. Duh. All omega pheromones are unique, you should know that by now.”

San had been too drunk to properly explain what he’d meant, trying to convey his point in jumbled sentences of, “but like. I dunno. Not in the sense that I can identify him by smell, but rather that when he’s around it’s like, calm. Nice. Fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying, but his scent has, like, a _feeling_ I can associate with it. I don’t get that with anyone else.”

Mingi had stared at him for so long that he’d gotten self-conscious, even his alcohol-muddled brain realising that he’d definitely said too much.

“A… feeling?” Mingi had said slowly.

San remembers how his heart had started pounding, the tone of Mingi’s voice indicating everything he’d needed to know. “I’m drunk as fuck right now, dude. Ignore everything I just said.”

And Mingi had said, “Sure, if you want then let’s forget it. But to answer your question, Wooyoung’s scent isn’t particularly different from any other omega’s to me, aside from that it identifies him.”

In that moment, San had known that he was fucked.

But there’s no denying it now: as soon as he steps into the apartment, a sense of calm contentedness washes over him. It’s not unpleasant, though; rather it’s something he’s come to associate with being in their small student apartment, and being around Wooyoung in general. _Home,_ or some equally corny shit.

Besides, apart from the whole thing with the pheromones, it’s easy to forget that they’re an alpha and an omega living together. He certainly never brings it up, because Wooyoung’s obviously uncomfortable with the topic.

San can hear the shower running, and he sets down the food he’d picked up on the table. “Wooyoung, I got you some stuff from the takeout place down the road,” he calls out.

“Thanks! I’ll be done in a second,” Wooyoung replies, voice muffled over the sound of the shower.

It’s not long before Wooyoung steps out of the bathroom, with a towel around his waist and wet hair. They’ve lived together for long enough that this isn’t exactly out of the ordinary, and San doesn’t bother glancing up from his laptop screen. He’s currently adding some final touches to his essay due tomorrow morning, halfway done with his dinner already.

Wooyoung heads into his room, re-emerging a few minutes later in a pair of grey sweatpants and an oversized red hoodie. He quietly grabs his food and sits down next to San at the table, careful to not disturb his work.

It’s almost ridiculous how quickly San zones in on his scent, even more pleasant now that it’s combined with hints of vanilla shampoo and what San can clearly identify as his own bodywash – Wooyoung had probably run out and decided to use San’s instead. It’s times like this that San curses his biology – his life would be way easier if he wasn’t able to smell Wooyoung at all, the way it is with betas. Or if alpha suppressants were stronger and able to mask scenting abilities like they do for omegas.

“Are you almost done?” Wooyoung asks, clearly noticing that San has abruptly stopped typing.

“Yeah,” San replies, pushing the laptop aside. He doubts he’ll be able to get any work done now. “I just have to write the conclusion.”

“Want me to read over it?” Wooyoung offers, because he’s taking that class too and they usually check each other’s essay for the convenience.

San glances at him. “That would be great, actually. I have a few parts I’m not sure about.”

Wooyoung hums, leaning against San to get a better view of his laptop. “No way. I picked this question too,” he says.

There had been ten possible essay topics to choose between and three of them had been obviously nightmarish questions that San couldn’t imagine anyone voluntarily writing a paper on, so the odds of this happening really weren’t _that_ low. And yet, it fills him with some kind of warmth that Wooyoung had happened to choose the same topic as him when neither of them had discussed it.

They sit in comfortable silence as Wooyoung reads through his essay, resting his chin on San’s shoulder. San tries his best to not get too distracted by Wooyoung’s scent washing over him, but it’s making him relaxed and sleepy and he wishes more than anything that he could just bury his face in Wooyoung’s neck and inhale deeply.

But he can’t, so he doesn’t.

“This is really good, San,” Wooyoung says, impressed. “Maybe just change the phrasing of this part-” he gestures towards one of the paragraphs San had been less confident about, “but other than that, it’s amazing. Big brain,” he adds, flicking San’s forehead gently as he moves away from him again.

San’s entire body mourns the loss, like a physical ache that he has absolutely no control over. A shard of glass lodged under his ribcage whenever Wooyoung and him aren’t touching.

He is so, totally, completely screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im thinking this is prob gonna be around 8-ish chapters long, but thats a very loose estimate so i guess we'll just have to see where this goes lmao. also sorry that this chapter is so short but i needed to get introductions out of the way so that we can move on to the fun stuff next chapter :p
> 
> if u enjoyed pretty plz consider leaving a comment because theres nothing that motivates me more or makes me write faster!! like seriously, i love reading ur guys' thoughts so much. also my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/woosanists) is available for any queries and i might start using [twitter](https://twitter.com/99wommy) more regularly from now on so maybe follow for writing updates ;) plus check out my other woosan stories if u haven't already!!
> 
> hopefully the update will be out asap, until then xoxo


	2. tides of chrome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an update after 2 days??!?!? who is she??!?!? this is mostly bc of all ur nice comments from last chapter lmao u guys got me so inspired rn

San’s already kind of regretting agreeing to come to Yunho’s pre-birthday birthday party. Wooyoung seems to be having a good time, though, so maybe he doesn’t regret it all that much.

He’s mostly just stressed about his essay; even though he’s basically finished it, he can’t stop thinking about how he could have improved the wording of his conclusion to make it more impactful or whatever. And, even though he technically still has time to go home and re-submit now, he doesn’t think changing four words is worth incurring Yunho’s wrath for bailing.

“I’m way too sober for this,” Wooyoung says to him, interrupting his internal dilemma.

“Yeah, same,” San replies, raising his voice a little to be heard over the pounding music.

He also hates that he can’t stop thinking about how good Wooyoung looks, in his tight black jeans. His scent is nice, too, a little stronger and sweeter than usual.

Really, San’s life would far easier if Wooyoung didn’t smell so fucking _good_ to him all the time.

And he smells more intoxicating now than ever, all honeyed and warm, even though San has no idea why. He can tell he’s not the only alpha noticing by the subtle glances being thrown in their direction, although Wooyoung seems completely oblivious. He kinda wants to ask whether everything’s okay, but he knows Wooyoung hates talking about that stuff, and doesn’t want to bring it up when he’s in such a happy mood.

They weave their way through the crowd towards the drinks table; San puts some distance between them, trying his best to not be a weirdo creep getting turned on by his best friend’s scent. There’s definitely something slightly different about it from usual, he just can’t put his finger on what exactly.

Wooyoung turns to smile at him; his flushed skin is almost glowing in the flashing lights of the party. “You’re not drinking tonight, right?”

“Yeah, I have to drive,” San says. He’s used to being designated driver, so he doesn’t mind. Besides, he has class tomorrow, so it’s probably for the best if he doesn’t get too drunk.

“I’m not gonna have much, either,” Wooyoung says, probably thinking along the same lines. “Maybe just a beer.”

Even though San’s too sober to properly appreciate the party, he’s well aware that Yunho’s an excellent host. The place is full to the brim with people, some of whom San has never seen in his life and genuinely has no clue where Yunho knows them from. Wooyoung, ever the social butterfly, goes over to say hi to a guy standing nearby that San recognises as Yeonjun, one of Yeosang and Wooyoung’s omega friends.

Omegas are rare enough on campus that they tend to gravitate to each other and form friendships, which San finds intriguing considering he generally avoids other alphas. Not even intentionally, he just hasn’t found many he gets along with, aside from Mingi and a handful of others.

Although, to be fair, he has a fairly small group of people he considers himself close to. As long as Wooyoung is his best friend, he doesn’t really need much else.

“You look like you’re having an absolutely terrible night,” comes a deep voice from next to him. _Ah, speak of the devil._

“Hey, Mingi,” San says.

“What’s got you feeling so sorry for yourself?” Mingi asks, taking a gulp of the whiskey he appears to be drinking straight out of the bottle.

“Nothing? I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

“Miss me with that bullshit. I could see you brooding from across the room,” Mingi gives him a knowing look. “It’s about Wooyoung, right?”

Mingi must be pretty drunk if he’s bringing that up so callously; he’s probably the only person other than San who’s remotely aware of how just how bad San’s got it. Obviously, Mingi had started having suspicions after their conversation where San had confessed the thing about Wooyoung’s scent, and after that it had been pretty easy for him to figure out the rest. _‘You practically have heart eyes whenever he so much as smiles at you’_ , is what Mingi had told him once.

“It’s not,” San says, not wanting to have this discussion right now. Or ever. “I have an essay due tomorrow morning and I wanna re-submit, but Yunho will skin me alive if I leave so early.”

“He will,” Mingi says. He takes another sip of whiskey, pulling a face as he swallows. “This shit is so gross. Anyway, you know what I’ve been thinking? I think you need to get laid.”

“It’s lovely to know that you spend time contemplating my sex life,” San replies, crossing his arms.

“Fuck off, you know what I mean. You haven’t pulled in, like, forever. And we both know it’s because you’re pining for a certain omega-” he cuts off with a pained grunt as San elbows him hard in the stomach.

“I’m not _pining_ ,” San mutters, even though he knows that’s a lie.

“You literally are. And since you refuse to make a move on him despite everything I’ve suggested, the time has come for you to hook up with someone else.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Mingi gives him a long, contemplative look. “You and Wooyoung are, like, in this weird limbo state. Neither of you are dating anyone and you spend all your time together, doing basically everything couples do. And yet, you’re not fucking.”

“Excellent analysis,” San says, unimpressed. “In short, we’re best friends who hang out platonically.”

“You wanna be more than platonic, though.”

“Can we stop talking about this?”

Mingi sighs, patting San on the back in a way that's probably meant to be reassuring. “Sure. Think about it, though.”

Like San doesn’t already spend way too much time thinking non-platonic thoughts about Wooyoung. “Okay, I guess,” he says, trying not to sound pessimistic. He doesn’t wanna become the brooding alpha Mingi had accused him of being.

Although maybe Mingi has a point about the whole pining thing.

* * *

“Do you know that dude?” Yeonjun asks, nodding his chin towards the other side of the room.

Wooyoung tries to glance as subtly as he can, but ends up accidentally making eye contact with the dude in question. It’s the same guy he’d spotted staring at him during lunch, that Yeosang had said probably thinks Wooyoung’s dating San.

“No, but I think he’s into me,” Wooyoung turns back to face Yeonjun.

“He’s definitely into you,” Yeonjun says with a laugh. “He’s barely looked away from you since you walked in.”

The guy is fairly handsome; muscular and broad in the way alphas tend to be. Wooyoung just isn’t interested in him for reasons he doesn’t know how to explain, even to himself.

“You gonna talk to him?” Yeonjun prompts when Wooyoung doesn’t reply.

Wooyoung shakes his head. “He’s not my type.”

“He’s exactly your type,” Yeonjun says, unconvinced. “Cute and an alpha.”

“Why would him being an alpha make him my type?” Wooyoung snaps, then immediately regrets it when he sees Yeonjun’s face fall. He hadn’t meant to get so irritated; he’s just stressed from classes and the whole San situation, and for some reason he’s felt on edge all evening.

“What? No,” Yeonjun says quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. Come on, you know that I, of all people, would understand how annoying the stereotyping shit is.”

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung says, sighing as he rubs a hand over his face. “I literally don’t know what’s up with me today. This morning,” he glances around to make sure that nobody’s close enough to hear their conversation, “basically, I didn’t have suppressants left, so I didn’t take any, and I think that’s what’s making me feel so horrible.”

Yeonjun’s eyes widen in understanding. “Dude, you should’ve told me earlier. I have a bunch of spare ones, I can give you some.”

“Like, right now?”

Yeonjun’s already rummaging through his pockets, then pulls out a small white box and hands it to Wooyoung. It’s not unlike the ones Wooyoung usually takes, except the tablets are pink instead of the blue he’s used to. Wooyoung’s sort of familiar with the different types of omega suppressants and knows that the ones Yeonjun is offering are a reliable brand.

“I have loads of them, it’s no problem,” Yeonjun says.

“Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver, thank you so much,” Wooyoung says, clutching the box gratefully before sliding it into his own pocket. He feels like a weight he wasn’t even aware of has been lifted off his shoulder, suddenly much less tense than he was a few minutes ago.

“Don’t worry about it. Don’t take them now, though, because it’s never a good idea to mix medicine with alcohol. You should be fine if you take them tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I usually take mine in the morning anyway,” Wooyoung says. He’s never had such a long discussion about suppressants with anyone except his doctor and – very rarely – Yeosang, but it’s almost nice to talk to someone about it who understands the process.

“The alpha who’s into you is coming over, by the way,” Yeonjun says suddenly.

Wooyoung feels the hairs on his neck stand on end, some of the tension returning into his body. He doesn’t know why he’s so bothered by this dude when Yeonjun is right and he’s probably Wooyoung’s type, but he just doesn’t feel like talking to him.

“Hey,” comes a voice from next to him, and Wooyoung has no choice but to turn to look at the addition to their group. “Are y’all about to get fucked up?”

The guy is nearly a head taller than him, which Wooyoung finds annoying for some reason. “What?” he asks, genuinely clueless.

“The drugs,” the dude says knowingly, pointing at the pocket Wooyoung had just slipped the suppressants into. “How much for a pill? I’m down to join.”

Yeonjun snorts, then tries to cover it up by taking a gulp of his beer. “We’re not taking them tonight,” he says.

The guy looks disappointed. “Oh. Okay, I guess not, then.” He pauses for a moment, then says to Wooyoung, “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask, are you single?”

Wooyoung hopes he doesn’t look too put off as he tries to think of a way to answer. The guy is cute, if a little obnoxious, and Wooyoung’s definitely fucked guys like this before in the past. But right now it just doesn’t feel right, especially when he can see San talking to Mingi from the corner of his eye, always subconsciously aware of his presence.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, taking a sip from his drink. “But I’m not really, um, dating right now.”

“Why?”

Wooyoung waves his hand vaguely, hoping he’ll get the hint. “Just… life stuff.”

The dude scoffs. “If you’re not interested, just say so. No need to give some lame fuckin’ excuse.”

Something about his tone, all patronizing and domineering, gets under Wooyoung’s skin. “Okay, I’m not interested,” he says.

“Are you making fun of me?” the guy takes a step towards him, staring hard and folding his arms in some stupid dominant alpha pose. Wooyoung thinks he looks like an idiot.

“Sort of.”

Wooyoung can tell that the dude doesn’t like that, as he clearly starts to lose his temper. “You really think you’re all that, don’t you? Because you’re not.”

“Didn’t you, like, try to ask me out three seconds ago?” Wooyoung points out, getting increasingly annoyed.

“Fuckin’ omega,” the alpha snarls, giving up the facade of politeness. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? Useless shits, the lot of you.”

Maybe if Wooyoung was more drunk he’d take the bait and try to fight him, but right now he can’t be bothered. He can tell the guy is just _begging_ for an excuse to try to beat him up, and, even though Wooyoung can land a punch, he knows rationally that the other guy has the upper hand. Plus he doesn’t feel like making a scene and potentially ruining Yunho’s pre-birthday birthday party.

“Let’s go,” he says to Yeonjun instead, who nods.

For a moment, Wooyoung is worried that the dude is gonna attack him from the back when he turns to walk away, but he doesn’t, just glowering at them as they walk across to where Mingi and San are standing.

“You good?” San asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Wooyoung snaps, still irritated for no real reason. “You gonna patronize me, too?”

San blinks, surprised. “What? No, I just meant-”

“I get it, I’m an omega, I can’t handle the big bad alpha-”

“Wooyoung, I literally just asked-”

“Let’s leave them to it,” Mingi tells Yeonjun, and the two of them walk to grab something else to drink while Wooyoung continues arguing with San. He doesn’t even know _why_ he’s so angry; he feels like shoving San and getting San all mad until he pins Wooyoung down and fucks the anger out of him and-

_Oh._

Okay, that makes more sense.

“When have I ever even suggested that you being an omega makes me look at you any differently?” San says, and he actually sounds mad now. “Our- fucking- alpha and omega-ness, or whatever the fuck, changes nothing between us. You should know that by now.”

And it’s so fucking stupid, but the words hurt Wooyoung’s feelings in a way that has nothing to do with their current argument. He _wants_ San to desire him in the way alphas desire an omega, even though, rationally, he knows that San regarding him as an equal is far more important to him. Really, he just wishes San could want him in the way that Wooyoung wants him; regardless of being an alpha and an omega and all the complications that come with that.

He never would’ve expected that one day off suppressants would have him feeling like this, had never realised just how much power is contained in those tiny tablets. Maybe he should have paid more attention in the omega biology classes in high school.

“Can we leave? I’m not, uh, feeling this party,” Wooyoung says, all the fight leaving him suddenly.

San looks surprised by how easily Wooyoung is letting the argument drop, but he nods. “I wasn’t planning on staying much longer, anyway.”

They say goodbye to their friends - Yunho calls them shitheads for bailing - and walk towards San’s car in silence, the aftermath of their argument still lingering between them.

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung says when they come to a halt. This is the second time he’s apologised for an unexpected outburst tonight, and he’s looking forward to no longer having to deal with all these frustrating emotions tomorrow. “I was being unreasonable, earlier. I know you would never think of omegas like that.”

“It’s okay,” San replies, hands in his pockets. He looks on the verge of saying something else, but closes his mouth again.

“I just get… frustrated,” Wooyoung continues, feeling like maybe he owes San more of an explanation, even though he knows San would accept his apology at face value. “But I shouldn’t take it out on you, that wasn’t fair.”

“Wooyoung, don’t stress. I promise, it’s fine,” San says, completely genuine.

Before he can stop himself, Wooyoung is reaching forward, tugging San into a tight hug. San freezes for a moment before wrapping his arms around him, pulling him firmly against his body. Wooyoung can’t help but think that they fit together perfectly; he has his nose right up against San’s neck and he can vaguely make out San’s scent, all warm and comforting and everything Wooyoung needs after how tense he’d been during the party. Omega suppressants only mask the ability to identify pheromones from a distance but it’s still possible to smell them from directly on the skin, and, not for the first time, Wooyoung sort of wishes he had the ability to always smell pheromones simply because of how nice and calming San’s scent is.

He doesn’t want to let go, body relaxed and happy in San’s hold, but he’s worried he’ll make things weird so he steps back a moment later. “I really appreciate you,” he says, hoping his face isn’t flushed. “I feel like I don’t tell you that enough.”

San looks baffled by Wooyoung’s sudden change in mood. “Um, I appreciate you too.”

Wooyoung turns to face the car, embarrassed. He pulls out a lollipop from his pocket, unwrapping the candy to have something to do with his hands as he says, “I’m hoping that means I’m forgiven for acting like an asshole earlier.”

“I told you, I was never mad at you,” San pulls the car keys out of his pocket and unlocks the car, not looking at Wooyoung the same way Wooyoung is avoiding looking at him. “If anything, I was just wishing you’d punched that dickhead in the nose like I know you wanted to.”

Wooyoung snorts. “I did want to. But it wouldn’t have been worth making a scene.”

“You came out with the upper hand, anyway.”

“I know.”

They climb into the car, and the weird tension between them is gone as Wooyoung puts on some music and San starts the engine, the way they’ve done a thousand times before.

* * *

It’s late nights like this that San treasures most. Not that he doesn’t like going to parties, but there’s something about the soft music in the speakers, and driving along the quiet, dark streets that fills him with a sense of peace.

Wooyoung’s scent is surrounding him, even stronger than earlier, which is making it hard to breathe in a way that isn’t necessarily painful but kind of turns him on which sucks equally bad.

He wants to ask Wooyoung why his scent is so strong, but Wooyoung hates talking about that stuff and he wants to respect his boundaries, especially after their argument. The last thing he wants is Wooyoung to feel like he’s overstepping again.

He’s also trying to not think too much about Wooyoung’s scent because the more his brain zones in on it, the less he can think of anything else.

Besides, Wooyoung looks like he’s fine, humming along to the song currently playing around the lollipop in his mouth. San’s glad he’s got to keep his eyes on the road for the most part, because it gives him an excuse to not look at Wooyoung for long.

It’s the kind of thing he feels shitty about, because the sight really shouldn’t be anything he needs to think twice about, and yet it feels practically burned into his brain. Now more than ever, because every time he inhales, his body is reminded of the non-platonic ways in which he wants Wooyoung.

He can feel Wooyoung watching him, pulling the lollipop from between his lips with a pop. Usually, San can’t tell much about his moods from scent alone, but now the sweet smell is so strong that he can sense a shift towards _something_ , the scent permeating the air and he thinks he might go into cardiac arrest at this rate.

San parks the car along the side of the road, dark with a large forest surrounding them, because he’s genuinely worried that he might cause an accident if he doesn’t stop driving right now.

“Why did you stop here? I thought we were gonna go home?” Wooyoung asks, his expression betraying nothing about whatever the hell is going on with his scent.

San doesn’t know a platonic way to say _‘you’re very distracting and I was worried I’d crash the car and kill us both’_ , so he just shrugs. “The night is still young. We can listen to music and chill here for a while.”

“This is the type of place where serial killers usually murder people, you know.”

“Thanks for that super reassuring piece of information.”

“Just saying.”

San unbuckles his seat, turning to face Wooyoung. He doesn’t remember when these late-night drives had become their _thing_ , but they’ll sometimes sit in the car at night for hours, just talking and sometimes eating, if they get drive-through food.

Wooyoung seems to be thinking along the same lines. “We didn’t get any take-away today.”

San shrugs, trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes away from the lollipop between Wooyoung’s lips. “We can get some now, if you want,” he says.

Maybe Wooyoung notices San’s gaze on his mouth, maybe it’s just because he’s unpredictable when he wants to be. San feels like it almost happens in slow motion, like some part of him knows what Wooyoung’s about to do before he actually does it.

Wooyoung pulls the lollipop from between his lips, holds it forward, in front of San’s mouth.

“Or we can just share this,” he says, tone light.

San blinks at him, wondering whether this is a joke. Wooyoung quirks an eyebrow, expression unreadable, and San can’t think when the car suddenly feels far too hot. He can smell his own alpha pheromones permeating in the air, and he’s glad that Wooyoung’s suppressants prevent him from noticing because otherwise it would be pretty fucking obvious that his body is responding to this in ways he isn’t supposed to.

Wordlessly, San opens his mouth. Feels Wooyoung drop the lollipop against his tongue and closes his mouth over the candy. Wooyoung’s eyes are on his lips.

San swallows, throat tight, the sticky sweetness overwhelming in his mouth.

He really shouldn’t be as into this as he is, but the vision of Wooyoung’s lips wrapped around the lollipop is still fresh in his mind’s eye, the undeniable sexiness in the knowledge that he’s indirectly tasting Wooyoung’s mouth. Wooyoung’s scent seems to be getting even stronger and he has no idea whether that’s just in his head or not.

It’s moments like this that everything gets too much, when he starts feeling like the world is out to get him. It would be hard enough to resist how he feels without the strong pull he can feel from deep within him, the alpha instincts deep inside him that make him want to _claim,_ to mark up Wooyoung’s skin and inhale his scent until he’s delirious with it.

“This candy is so nasty,” he manages to say, trying to restore some semblance of normality to the situation. “I don’t know why you like this shit.”

Wooyoung tugs the lollipop out of San’s mouth, watching it pull through his lips. “Better than drinking black coffee with zero sugar every morning.”

San wishes he could crack open the car window, to get some release from this endless onslaught of pheromones that are making him edge closer and closer to having his self-control snap. He prides himself on having impeccable restraint, particularly regarding any alpha instincts, but Wooyoung’s always been the exception to the rule.

But he does his best to channel that willpower now, as he starts the engine again and begins to drive slowly down the road. “Better get out of here before any serial killers get us,” he says by way of explanation when he senses Wooyoung’s gaze on him.

“Why, you scared that it would be your alpha duty to protect me?” Wooyoung teases, and it fills San with a certain warmth that Wooyoung trusts him enough to joke about these sorts of things with him when clearly the omega stereotypes bother him a lot.

“I’m not sure how being an alpha is particularly helpful against a serial killer, unless you want me to growl at them.”

“That might work. Maybe they’d start laughing and we’d have enough time to escape.”

“Fuck you. I’m very intimidating.”

Fortunately, he’s able to drive without getting into a car accident, even though – at one point – Wooyoung puts on a song that San has _definitely_ heard him fucking to, and he barely manages to resist asking him to change to another song because it’s all just _too much._

He doesn’t know when his feelings had become this intense; he’s always been sort of into Wooyoung, but in those days he’d only felt mildly jealous whenever Wooyoung had brought anyone home, since he’d also been seeing other people.

But he’s dreading the next time Wooyoung starts dating or hooking up with anyone, because he doesn’t think his stupid, fragile heart can handle it now. He’s too tangled with complicated emotions towards Wooyoung that just keep growing stronger, and a soul-crushing physical attraction to him, all of which is made even worse by his dumb alpha possessiveness.

He just needs to remind himself that Wooyoung isn’t his, no matter how badly he wants him.

He reminds himself of that when Wooyoung puts on another sex song in the car, humming along innocently, and he reminds himself of that when they walk back into the apartment and Wooyoung makes a comment about how nice San smells, running his hands along San’s shoulders.

And he reminds himself of that late at night when he’s in bed, body thrumming with tension, as he jerks off to the thought of Wooyoung’s lips wrapped around that fucking lollipop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whelp . i warned yall that the mutual pining was gonna be heavy in this one.
> 
> please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed, ive been feeling a lot more motivated to write recently and it's genuinely bc of ur guys' comments so thank u so much!! also hmu in my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/woosanists), i rly want u guys to get to know me a little better so feel free to ask anything ur curious about me/my writing/kpop thoughts and follow my [twitter](https://twitter.com/99wommy) for writing updates :p
> 
> hopefully the next update will be out soon if i can keep this writing momentum going xoxo


	3. heat of the moment

Wooyoung should’ve guessed that something was wrong the moment he’d woken up with a sharp pain in his lower back.

He’d been having a nightmare, he thinks. He’s not sure, the last remnants of the dream vanishing like wisps of smoke, but he must have been sleeping badly because his head hurts and his throat is dry.

He’s also got a weird ache in his chest, but he drags himself out of bed and into the kitchen, pouring a cool glass of water and downing it on one go. Still half asleep, he remembers the suppressants Yeonjun gave him, so he stumbles back to his bedroom to rummage through his belongings until he finds the small box.

His head still hurts. He swallows the pill dry, as he usually does with his own suppressants, but it sits uncomfortably in his throat and he has to return to the kitchen and grab a second glass of water to wash it down successfully.

Since he’s mostly awake now anyway, he decides to take a shower. Luckily, by the time he’s done with it he feels much better, his headache almost completely gone, chest and back no longer aching.

* * *

The headache returns in full force during his after-lunch class, with gradually increasing intensity until Wooyoung’s barely able to refrain from resting his head on the desk and groaning with how much it hurts.

The sunlight shining through the windows of the lecture hall is far too bright, and the lecturer’s voice rings through his brain, loud and unpleasant. He’s dizzy, thinks he might be sweating as the minutes trickle past, the lecture hall far too hot.

He hasn’t registered a single word from this class for the past thirty minutes.

Finally, _finally,_ the lecture is over and Wooyoung grabs his stuff, wondering whether he has time to pick up some painkillers before his next class. Maybe migraine tablets. He doesn’t remember ever having such a bad headache before, even amid his worst hangovers.

Wooyoung manages to get out of the classroom without stumbling, even though he can barely think beyond the pulsing pain. Rather confusingly, as soon as he’s out of the lecture hall and in the bustling corridor, his headache subsides almost completely. He still feels like absolute dogshit, but at least it’s no longer like his brain is trying to self-detonate inside his skull.

He sees Mingi walking down the corridor at the same time as the other catches sight of him, his face morphing into a concerned expression as he stops walking.

“Wooyoung? You good?”

A sharp stab of pain shoots through Wooyoung’s abdomen, and he clenches his fists to stop himself from letting out a groan. “Hi, Mingi,” he grits out.

“Are you okay?” Mingi asks again, sounding uneasy. “Your, uh,” he lowers his voice, glancing around to make sure nobody’s listening, “your scent is kinda off-”

“I’m fine,” Wooyoung interrupts, already turning away. This discussion is the last thing he needs right now – he has to find some painkillers as soon as possible instead of talking about his fucking _scent._

“If you say so,” Mingi looks unconvinced. “I have to go to class, but text me if you need anything. Seriously. You don’t look too good.”

Wooyoung nods, managing to say some kind of goodbye as the pain in his stomach intensifies, paired with a pulsing ache in his lower back. He tries not to double over as he watches Mingi walk down the corridor among the many students heading to their classes. There’s sweat dripping down his neck, he can feel the dampness against the collar of his shirt.

Maybe he’s burning up. He probably ought to skip his only remaining lecture today, he really doesn’t feel like he’s in any condition to go to class right now.

Nodding to himself, he starts down the corridor, hoping he’ll be able to make the trip home without everyone immediately noticing he’s clearly not well. Some of the students in the corridor are giving him weird stares, and he wonders what he must look like. He feels flushed and feverish, like his blood is steadily heating to a boiling point in his veins.

“Hey, Wooyoung,” comes a deep voice from beside him.

Wooyoung turns around automatically, in so much discomfort that it takes him a second to register who had been talking. It’s one of the guys he’s seen around in a few of his classes, a tall, well-built boy that Wooyoung thinks might be an alpha by his scent.

Which is weird. He’s usually not able to tell much by scent, just notice that some things smell nice to him – San especially, all warm and comforting – and that some things don’t smell as nice. He’s never been able to determine whether anyone’s an alpha or not just based on smell, but right now he’s sure in a way he wouldn’t be able to put into words that the guy in front of him is an alpha.

“Hi,” he says, voice somehow managing to come out shaky despite him only uttering a single syllable.

The guy looks a little embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck with his hand in a way that make his biceps strain against the thin sleeves of his t-shirt. Wooyoung doesn’t know why he notices that, or why his mouth goes dry at the sight, stomach jolting with another jab of pain.

“I wanted- uh, I just wanted to say that if you, um, need anyone to help you out, then feel free to hit me up,” the guy says, cheeks colouring a little. “I’ve, uh, had my eye on you for a while. Sorry, this is so embarrassing. Just let me give you my number, and feel free to text me if you need anything. And if you don’t, that’s totally fine too.”

Wooyoung stares at him, trying to make sense of what the guy is saying. It’s hard when his mind feels hazy, almost like he’s slipping in and out of a state of being heavily intoxicated, which obviously isn’t the case because he hasn’t had anything to drink.

Has he been drugged, or some shit? Maybe poisoned? Is he dying right now?

“Um, okay,” he says. The guy had definitely said something about being into him, which is flattering, but his brain is too muddled right now to make much sense of it.

The guy – he’s _definitely_ an alpha, Wooyoung can smell the heavy, woody pheromones he’s radiating and that’s so fucking strange in and of itself that if he didn’t feel on the verge of passing out he’d be more concerned – reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a pen.

He gently takes Wooyoung’s wrist, eyes darting over his face to check whether this is ok, and starts writing something on the back of his hand. Wooyoung’s skin feels hypersensitive, and he struggles to stay still as the guy finishes writing his number. The black ink of the numbers stands out in sharp contrast against his skin.

“Thanks,” he says, because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do now.

“No problem. Keep me in mind, yeah?” the guy says, then heads off in the opposite direction.

_Okay, well that was fucking weird._

Wooyoung doesn’t have the energy to wonder what that had been about, and he honestly feels like his legs might give out so he stumbles towards the nearest bathroom, relieved that it’s empty.

Everything is swelteringly hot, and Wooyoung’s hands are shaking as he opens the tap and a stream of water comes out. He shoves his face into the sink, allowing the cool water to run along his sweaty skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters, water brushing between his lips. His shirt is sticking to him with sweat and he can’t breathe and he thinks he might have a fever.

He needs to call San. San will know what to do, how to make all this unbearable pain stop, how to take care of him. He fumbles his phone out of his pocket, pulling away from the sink with water dripping down his neck and all over his clothes and everything _hurts._

 _San_. Wooyoung finds him immediately in his contacts and presses the call button, hoping desperately that he’s not in class. The phone rings for a moment, every second making Wooyoung’s neck prickle with agitation.

“Hey, what’s up?” San answers, and the familiarity and relief at being able to hear his voice are so intense that Wooyoung almost collapses.

And then, suddenly, he notices that his underwear feel damp in a way that has nothing to do with the sweat or tap water. And he stares at himself in the mirror – registering vaguely that he’s a total mess, sweaty and flushed and debauched-looking – eyes wide with horror as suddenly all the pieces come together.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, and this time his legs really do give out and he slides to the floor, pulling his knees up against his chest as he wonders what the _fuck_ he’s gonna do now.

Because he’s clearly just gone into heat in the middle of his university campus.

“Wooyoung?” San asks through the phone, sounding worried. “Is everything okay? Why did you call?”

This is so humiliating, and Wooyoung really doesn’t want San to see him like this. But he can’t think of what else he can do – can’t think at all beyond the pulsing heat flowing through his body.

 _This shouldn’t be happening_. He’s been on suppressants since he first presented, he’s never even fucking experienced a heat, and there’s no reason for him to be having one right now. But that’s evidently what’s going on, and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do.

“San,” Wooyoung whispers, shaky. “San, I think I’ve gone into heat.”

The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth and he hates this, hates everything about the way he feels like he has no control over his body.

“What?” San sounds stunned.

“I’m not sure, but I think that’s what’s happening. I’m so sorry for calling you, I just don’t know what to do. I’m really sorry, I’m just confused and didn’t know who to tell, but it’s fine if you’re busy-”

“Where are you?” San asks, interrupting his apologetic babbling.

“Bathroom in the ground floor of the main lecture building.”

“I’m in the lunch hall. I’ll be five minutes. Will you be alright until then?” It sounds through the phone like he’s already stood up and is packing his belongings.

“Y-yeah,” Wooyoung says, resisting the urge to groan as a pulse of unpleasant heat jolts through his abdomen.

“Okay. Can I hang up? Or we can talk on the phone in the meantime, I would just be able to get there faster if-”

“No, it’s okay,” Wooyoung forces out, and he’s almost relieved that they won’t be on call because then he won’t have to force down all the pained noises stuck in his throat.

“I’m going to be there soon. Don’t leave the bathroom.”

San hangs up, and Wooyoung finally allows himself to curl into a ball on the floor, flames licking at his insides and an unbearable pulsing heat in his lower stomach. He’s hard in his jeans, which is already humiliating, but made a thousand times worse by the fact that San’s gonna be here soon.

But, even in the haze of all the uncomfortable and awful feelings flowing through him, Wooyoung knows that San is going to make this better. His body aches even at the thought of San’s warm scent. The good kind of warm – warm like a sunny day at the park, or like drinking hot chocolate in front of a bonfire at night. Not the kind of warmth Wooyoung’s feeling now, which is more like being locked in an oven as the temperature steadily increases to an excruciating level.

He whimpers against the floor as he feels a throbbing between his legs, and he hates all of this. He hates the way he can feel himself fucking leaking slick – just a little, but that little is incriminating enough – and hates everything about this is so degrading, the way he’s so overcome by his body’s urges that all he’s able to do is lie on the floor and pant pathetically.

The bathroom door swings open, and Wooyoung flinches before he realises that it’s San. That definitely wasn’t five minutes, San must have sprinted from the lunch hall, but Wooyoung’s so relieved that he lets out a pitiful sob.

San freezes against the doorframe, and Wooyoung can see his face shift into an unreadable expression as his nostrils flare.

_Oh, right._

San is an alpha. And it probably wasn’t the best idea to call him into a room saturated with horny omega heat pheromones, even if those pheromones are being emitted by someone San isn’t attracted to.

But it’s hard to think about all the reasons why this was a bad idea when Wooyoung’s body is practically singing at the slight scent of San he can pick up even from so far away. Usually, to catch San’s scent he needs to have his nose right up against his skin, which is something that doesn’t happen often. Only during movie nights, when San gets all up in his personal space, or when they’re drunk and San, being the clingiest person on the entire planet, decides that he wants to cuddle.

Now, he can smell him despite the distance between them, and it makes his head spin to think of how he must smell up-close. His abdomen aches and he can feel more slick leak into his already damp underwear.

This is so humiliating. It was a terrible idea to call San.

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung stutters out, trying to push himself into a sitting position even as his limbs feel like they’re made of rubber. It’s too difficult to hold himself up with his arms, so he collapses against the floor again, groaning miserably.

“Fuck,” San says, and he looks like he’s trying to stop himself from breathing in the air, taking tiny breaths that make Wooyoung irrationally upset.

He knows the reason behind his distress, and this is all so fucking stupid and inconvenient – his omega instincts don’t understand why San isn’t appreciating the pheromones he’s emitting for him, to make himself as tempting as possible.

No, not for him. For any alpha. Although that feels like a lie when the thought of the alpha he’d spoken to earlier being here instead of San makes Wooyoung’s skin crawl unpleasantly. He’s aware in ways he never has been before of how his skin carries traces of the other alpha boy’s scent, and he wants it gone. He wants San next to him instead, to bask in his delicious scent and for everyone in the world to know that he belongs to San only and-

Okay, the heat is clearly making him delirious.

“How do you feel?” San asks, and his voice is rough in a way that sends sparks down Wooyoung’s spine and makes his body throb.

“How do you fucking _think_ I feel,” he slurs, words melting together. “I feel like shit. Everything hurts.”

San takes a step towards him, and Wooyoung is overcome with the urge to bare his neck in submission, to start begging, to do anything to make San understand that he’s willing to offer himself up to him. He mentally stomps on that urge, disgusted with himself.

“Can I touch you?” San asks, and the words light Wooyoung’s blood on fire in a way that has nothing and everything to do with his heat. “Not- not like that,” San quickly adds, and Wooyoung can see now that he’s closer that he’s blushing, ears and cheeks pink. “Like, to help you sit up.”

Wooyoung nods, and then San’s hands are on his arms, gentle but firm, pulling him up and resting his weight partially against the wall. Wooyoung can’t stop his groan. He desperately hopes San will think it’s because he’s in pain and not because the feeling of San’s hands on him make his body ache in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant, but he knows his scent spiked an embarrassing amount as soon as San touched him, so the odds of that are low.

San lets him go like he’s been burned, turning away and resting his forehead against the wall. Wooyoung can see his fists clenching and unclenching.

“San?” he asks, feeling like shit that he’s putting San in such an uncomfortable position. “It’s okay if you wanna leave, seriously-”

“No,” San interrupts, even though his eyes are still closed. “I’m fine. I just need a moment.”

Wooyoung wishes he could stop his body from emitting pheromones, has never felt this helpless in his own skin before. He doesn’t understand why this is happening to him, _now_ , when the suppressants should be able to stop his body from behaving like this.

San seems to be thinking along the same lines. “I thought you’re on suppressants?” he asks, still not looking at Wooyoung.

“I am,” Wooyoung replies, trying unsuccessfully to keep his voice stable. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out,” San sounds so convincing that it almost makes Wooyoung believe him. “We need to get you home somehow without being obvious about what’s going on, because, um, people might talk otherwise.”

He’s right. If anyone saw an omega, clearly in heat, walking home with an alpha, they’d definitely make assumptions. And the thought of people knowing about Wooyoung being in heat, even thinking of him being in the state he’s in right now, makes him want to throw up.

“I hate this,” Wooyoung whispers. He fists his hands in his sweaty hair, trying not to whimper as another, almost unbearable, wave of heat pulses through his body.

“Hey, it’s okay,” San says, crouching down in front of Wooyoung. His eyes are dark and intense, but he seems far more in control of himself than he might be considering the circumstances. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be fine.”

Wooyoung nods, allowing San to carefully remove his hands from his hair and take them into his own hands, warm and comforting. San’s expression tightens as he notices the phone number digits written in pen on Wooyoung’s skin, probably able to tell by the scent that it’s from an alpha.

“What’s this?” San asks.

Wooyoung resists the urge to hide his hand, insides curling at the thought of having made San upset. At this point he can’t tell whether he’s worried about disappointing his best friend or whether it’s just his inner omega being distraught at potentially having displeased his alpha. Even though San isn’t his alpha. His inner omega doesn’t seem to have gotten that memo.

“It’s- it’s nothing,” he says, tongue dry in his mouth. “An alpha saw me just before I went into heat, he could probably smell the pre-heat on me. And he, uh, gave me his number, and said if I needed anything I should text. Which I wouldn’t, obviously.”

San stares at the messy writing for a long time, lips pursed. He looks like he’s having an internal battle, like if he glares at the numbers for long enough, he’ll be able to magically remove them.

“I’m really sorry,” he says finally, looking embarrassed. “Is it okay if, uh, I wash it off? It’s an alpha thing,” he adds quickly.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that obviously an alpha’s possessive and competitive instincts would take offense to someone making a move to stake their claim on Wooyoung, even if he and San aren’t like that. San’s the alpha taking care of him right now, and Wooyoung knows more that anyone that San can’t control his baser instincts regardless of the fact that, Wooyoung’s heat aside, San is definitely not into him.

“Y-yeah, that’s fine,” Wooyoung says. He himself is relieved at the prospect of the numbers being gone.

San gently pulls him up, and Wooyoung feels dizzy as he lets San tug him back over to the sink. He can tell by the tension in San’s movements that he isn’t unaffected by the pheromones in the room; it’s honestly impressive that he’s been able to control himself this well.

Wooyoung’s abdomen throbs with heat and something else as San opens the tap and holds Wooyoung’s hand under the water. Something about the rough, almost angry way in which he scrubs at the skin, in strong contrast to his gentle words before, makes Wooyoung’s entire body ache.

“You smell like him,” San says, not looking up as he continues rubbing at the ink on Wooyoung’s skin until it’s completely gone.

Wooyoung doesn’t need to ask who he means. He’s trying to focus on anything except San in front of him, because he’s worried he’s gonna start leaking slick again and San will definitely be able to smell it and that’s so fucking embarrassing that he wants to die.

“And he gave you his number,” San continues distantly, “but you still called me.”

If Wooyoung were in a rational frame of mind, he might point out that it’s idiotic of San think for a second that he’d want some random alpha to fuck him during his first ever heat, when he doesn’t even know the guy. But his mind right now has pretty much gone to mush and all he can really think is a repeated chant of _want you want you want you._

“I trust you,” he says, and San’s face shutters as he steps back. Wooyoung doesn’t know whether it was the wrong thing to say, but without San there to support him he feels weak again, like he needs to lie back down on the floor.

“Fuck, okay. I can do this,” San says, mostly to himself. And now that he’s standing a little further away, Wooyoung can see that he’s hard, the outline of his dick visible against the fabric of his jeans. Even though Wooyoung knows, of course, that it would be physically impossible for an alpha to not react like that in the presence of an omega in heat, he can’t stop his pathetic groan and feels more slick leak between his legs.

“San,” he says, voice cracking as he stumbles a little, leaning against the sink. He doesn’t think he can stay standing for much longer, the dizziness becoming unbearable as flames lick at his stomach from the inside. “I wanna go home.”

“Yeah, I’ll get you home, don’t worry,” San says, stepping towards him and gently drawing Wooyoung against his body in a hug. “Is it-” San’s hands flex against his back and Wooyoung realises that his scent has spiked again unintentionally. “ _Fuck._ Is it ok if I scent you? Maybe I’ll be able to mask a bit of your scent with mine, and then you can get to the car without everyone we walk past immediately smelling what’s up.”

_San scenting him._

Wooyoung’s dick aches. He’d always secretly entertained the fantasy of San scenting him, covering his skin with that deliciously warm smell, making it clear to everyone who passed him by that he’d been claimed by San. And although this isn’t what it’s going to mean in this situation, he still wants it more than breathing.

“Yeah, t-that’s fine,” he manages to get out.

San hesitates for a second, then presses him back against the wall. That alone is enough to make Wooyoung instinctively drop his head to one side, baring his neck in a clear gesture of submission, breath stuttering.

“Wooyoung,” San says quietly, eyes dark. “You don’t have to… I’m not gonna do anything. Like, sex-wise. I won’t touch you like that. You can trust me, I promise.”

His words aren’t the reassurance they’re meant to be. Wooyoung _wants_ him to touch him like that, not just because of his heat but because he’s so attracted to San that it’s making his head spin. He wants to ask San why not, why he refuses to desire Wooyoung even when Wooyoung is in heat and should be nearly impossible for an alpha to resist.

Instead, he just nods, shivering as San leans forward to brush his nose along the skin of his neck. He can feel himself dripping slick but is too overwhelmed to feel embarrassed by it, surrounded by San’s rich scent. He can smell the arousal; San is clearly affected by this, even though Wooyoung knows, rationally, that it’s probably just an automatic reaction of his body.

Then San brushes his lips along the most sensitive part of Wooyoung’s neck, tongue darting out to taste, and Wooyoung can’t help his whine as he grips the front of San’s shirt. He wants him so badly he’s shaking; wants San to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him until it stops hurting.

San makes a sound low in his throat, not quite a growl, and then he’s stepping back abruptly, both of them breathing heavily. San turns away first, leaning his arms on the sink with his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Thank you,” Wooyoung says, guilt eating him up for putting San through this. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t-” San’s voice is rough, and it sends another wave of desire through Wooyoung. “Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault.” He pushes away from the sink, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Everyone should be in class by now, so the building will probably be relatively empty. And I think my scent has helped to mask the heat pheromones, at least temporarily. Let’s try to get to the car now.”

Wooyoung nods, watching dazedly as San pulls off his sweater and hands it to him. When Wooyoung doesn’t move, too distracted by the excruciating waves of heat flowing through his veins, San steps forward to help him pull on the sweater.

Being surrounded by San’s scent is comforting, even though Wooyoung still wishes that he could just have San touch him instead. But San has made it clear that he doesn’t want him like that, and the last thing Wooyoung wants is to pressure him into anything.

“Ready?” San asks, gesturing towards the bathroom exit.

Wooyoung is grateful that he’s not yet leaking enough slick for it to be visible through his jeans, even though he’s pretty sure that anyone they happen to run into will know what’s going on. He nods anyway, desperate to get back to the safety of their apartment before his heat gets even more intense, as he’s sure is bound to happen.

“Ready,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhmmhm... yea. that was pt 1 of wooyoungs heat and we'll see the rest next chapter (which will hopefully be out asap) lol :p
> 
> big thank u to all the kind comments, u guys have been making me so motivated to write and i am rly thankful for that!! pls consider leaving a comment if u enjoyed, and catch me in my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/woosanists) or follow my [twitter](https://twitter.com/99wommy) for writing updates xoxo


	4. fire and lust

By some miracle, they don’t run into anyone and manage to make it to the car without an incident. As soon as San closes the door, the entire car feels clogged up with pheromones; both the scent of Wooyoung’s heat, and the aroused alpha pheromones San is emitting in response. He smells so good that it makes Wooyoung’s head spin, his body craving San’s touch.

“I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to drive like this,” San says, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.

Wooyoung can feel that he’s leaking slick again, and he’s terrified that he’ll drip onto the seat. He lets out a small gasp of pain as a jolt of heat slams through his body, getting more unpleasant by the second.

“Please, San,” he whispers. “I just wanna go home.”

After a moment’s hesitation, San turns on the car engine and rolls down the two front windows of the car. It’s risky, considering anyone nearby is more likely to be able to pick up Wooyoung’s scent like this, but they both know that it’s better than San having to drive while in a car completely saturated with omega heat pheromones.

Time starts blurring as the warmth pulsing through Wooyoung’s body gets increasingly agonising, and he’s gritting his teeth with the effort of holding in his pained whimpers. It feels like it takes both an eternity and a split second for them to arrive; by the time they pull up in front of their student apartment complex, Wooyoung’s sweating and feels on the verge of passing out. His limbs are weak and San has to practically drag him into the building, doing his best to support Wooyoung against his body.

This time, they’re not as lucky as they were earlier, and several people walk by them as they stumble down the corridor to their apartment. Most of them are betas who aren’t able to smell what’s happening, and merely shoot them looks ranging from irritated to amused. To them, San and Wooyoung probably just look drunk and horny and on their way to have sex.

But when they pass an alpha, he gives them a curious look, his eyes resting on Wooyoung. Although Wooyoung is too out of it to properly register his stare, he can feel San’s grip on him tighten as the alpha passes them, growling low in his throat when the guy’s gaze lingers a little too long. The alpha’s eyes widen and he walks away from them without looking back.

“Did- did you just growl at him?” Wooyoung manages to gasp out, way more turned on by the unintentional display of possessiveness than he should be.

“Shit, sorry,” San sounds genuinely embarrassed. “It’s… alpha instincts. I didn’t mean to.”

Wooyoung almost wants to tell him that he thought it was hot, but suddenly the intense pain in his abdomen forces him to double over with a groan. San tries to help him upright again, tugging Wooyoung against his body to support his weight.

“We’re almost at the apartment,” San murmurs, hand stroking along Wooyoung’s arm soothingly.

“It hurts.”

“I know,” San says, and he looks so distraught that it makes Wooyoung’s heart clench.

San ends up having to half-carry Wooyoung down the hallway until they make it to the apartment, by which point Wooyoung really is about to collapse. San fumbles with the keys for a moment, almost dropping them as Wooyoung leans against him and buries his nose in his neck.

It’s only San’s scent that’s helping to keep the pain at bay, and Wooyoung’s too delirious to stop himself from inhaling deeply along San’s skin, where the pheromones are strongest.

San finally manages to unlock the door, and they stumble into the apartment. It looks deceptively normal, exactly like the thousands of other times they’d entered together. San’s still trying to keep Wooyoung from falling over as he sits him down on the couch, breathing heavily as he digs his phone out of his pocket.

“Do you know anything about the stuff that can help during a heat?” San asks, to which Wooyoung shakes his head.

“I never paid attention to any of that shit in class,” he mumbles. He sort of regrets that now, but he’s also in too much pain to think too deeply about it.

“I’m gonna google it,” San says, already typing something into his phone.

“How about a cold shower?” Wooyoung suggests blearily, because he still feels like he’s burning up, his skin and hair sweaty, and a shower sounds amazing right now.

“Apparently, showers don’t help much during the actual heat. It says here that it’s best to shower right after,” San says, eyebrows creasing as he continues reading.

It makes Wooyoung oddly emotional, how well San’s handling this whole thing, and his chest aches in a way that has nothing to do with his heat. He doesn’t deserve such a caring, selfless best friend when he can’t stop lusting after him, even now. Especially now.

He closes his eyes and curls up on the couch into a ball, absolutely miserable as his body continues pulsing with feverish heat. At least San is here; he can’t even imagine having to go through this alone.

“It- uh, it says that a bed is probably the most comfortable place to be,” San says after a while.

Wooyoung nods, blinking his eyes open and trying his best to sit up. It doesn’t work, his arms too weak to support his own weight, and San has to help him stand. Somehow, Wooyoung accidentally brushes against San’s crotch; he can feel how hard he is even through his jeans. San flinches and steps back, expression pained as his cheeks flush.

“Sorry,” Wooyoung says, embarrassed. Then he feels even more embarrassed for acknowledging it instead of just pretending it had never happened.

“It’s okay,” San says, equally mortified. “I’m sorry for, y’know-”

 _Oh god_. Now San’s apologising for what is definitely a very natural reaction of his body given the circumstances. Wooyoung wants to shrivel up and die.

It doesn’t help that he’s just as hard, even that slight touch from before is sending tidal waves of lust through him. It only gets worse when they end up in San’s bedroom – San says something about how the alpha pheromones should calm Wooyoung’s body, but he’s too distracted to pay attention – and he thinks he’s losing his mind because he can’t stop imagining how good it would feel to have San fuck him, hard, in his own bed.

He practically collapses onto the bed, and San must be right about the pheromones because it feels fucking incredible to be surrounded by San’s scent like this; the only thing that would be better than this is San himself. He really hadn’t planned on asking, but now San is staring at him with so much desire in his eyes that it makes Wooyoung think that maybe he might wanna fuck him too.

“I want- shit. Never mind,” Wooyoung cuts himself off, can’t bring himself to say the words.

He’d really thought that he’d be able to get through his heat without resorting to this, but everything hurts so bad and his body _knows_ that San would make it better, that having San inside him would be so perfect and exactly what he needs to turn this unbearable suffering into unimaginable pleasure.

“Tell me,” San says, brushing Wooyoung’s sweaty hair out of his face with his hand.

“Please,” Wooyoung’s voice cracks as he convulses against the bed. His underwear is wet with slick and the urge to be filled has become unbearably painful. “Please, can you fuck me?”

San groans low in his throat, and the sound makes every cell in Wooyoung’s body want to submit to San, he thinks he might be baring his neck but he’s so delirious that he can’t think beyond the throbbing between his legs.

“Please,” he says again, pathetically.

But San steps back, hands clenched tightly at his sides. “I’m really sorry,” he says, voice rough, “but I can’t. I’m- I just don’t want to do anything you might regret after this is over.”

Wooyoung whimpers against the sheets, another pulsing wave of heat shooting to his groin. “I won’t regret it,” he manages to say. “Please, I need it. Fuck me. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just as a favour.”

“Wooyoung,” San says, sounding like he’s struggling to get the words out. “I really can’t. You said that you trust me, so please trust me now.”

Wooyoung wants to trust him but the throbbing has become an overwhelming pain and he genuinely doesn’t think he can survive this. Although he knows not all omegas are on suppressants and an omega body can survive a heat without the help of an alpha, rational thought seems distant right now and all he knows is that he’s in pain and he wants it to stop.

“It hurts,” he whispers. “I really can’t do this.”

San hesitates for a long moment and Wooyoung groans as his body continues pulsing with heat. He thinks the slick might be leaking through his pants onto the bed, which is so gross and humiliating that he doesn’t know how he’ll ever look San in the eye again after this.

“Does my scent make you feel better? Since I’m an alpha?” San asks, and the question makes Wooyoung automatically zone in on San’s scent, far darker and heavier than usual in a way that could only mean he’s not as unaffected as he seems to be.

It makes Wooyoung’s head clear a little, body warming in a way that feels far more pleasant than the scorching burn of his heat. He nods, part of him wondering how much more humiliating this whole situation can get.

“Okay, let’s try something else then,” San says, talking a deep breath and climbing onto the bed next to Wooyoung.

His proximity immediately makes Wooyoung’s heart thud in his chest, and he has completely lost track at this point of what his body’s genuine reactions are, and which are the ones triggered by his heat.

San tugs Wooyoung between his legs, hugging him from behind with his arms around Wooyoung’s shoulders. Wooyoung is immediately surrounded by San’s warm scent, and it feels like his body is melting in the best possible way, all the pain and unpleasantness fading into the background of his mind like white noise, San’s presence calming his body down like a soothing balm.

“Better?” San croaks, and Wooyoung vaguely wonders how much self-restraint it must take him to have an omega in heat practically on his lap and not be overcome with the urge to fuck.

“Better,” Wooyoung manages to reply, closing his eyes as he nuzzles his face into San’s arm, letting his scent wash over him.

But now part of his mind is fixated on the idea of San fucking him, and he really shouldn’t have allowed himself to think of that in the first place because now his body is heating again, every movement San makes against him sending little shocks down his skin.

Wooyoung is sure that San’s still hard – how could he not be, given the situation – but San is holding him in a way that keeps him just slightly away from that area of his body, and something about that is making him want to cry. But it doesn’t matter how badly he wants San, because he’s already asked once and San had said no, and the last thing he’d ever want is to pressure San into something he doesn’t want.

Although it does make his inner omega (and his regular self, if he’s honest) miserable that San doesn’t consider him desirable enough to want like that. Because he must _really_ not want him if he’s able to not only resist the pheromones of an omega in heat, but also say no to Wooyoung asking him to do it as a favour, since San’s not exactly a prude and neither of them are strangers to casual, no-strings-attached sex.

But San doesn’t wanna fuck him, and he just has to accept that.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay-” San says, scooping Wooyoung closer to his body and rubbing his shoulders comfortingly, and Wooyoung realises that tears have collected in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks.

And he’d genuinely thought that the situation couldn’t get any more mortifying.

“I’m sorry,” he says, leaning back against San’s chest and clutching at him helplessly. “I hate this. I just want it to stop. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” San says firmly. “None of this is your fault. I’m here for you, I’m gonna help you in any way I can.”

Wooyoung nods, blinking the tears away as he tries to get a grip of himself. “Thank you.”

San rubs his nose along Wooyoung’s neck soothingly, and it calms the painful, burning fire in his veins a little. Wooyoung can’t help but wonder how much worse everything would be if San wouldn’t be here to help him.

They lie like that for a while, San whispering comforting things into his ear and holding Wooyoung against his body. The heat feels less awful than it did earlier, and Wooyoung desperately hopes that he was fortunate enough to only have to experience one that lasted less than two hours.

At one point, San goes to the kitchen to get Wooyoung some water, as well as some cool, damp towels that he lays against Wooyoung’s temple and arms.

“How are you feeling?” he asks quietly, sliding back next to Wooyoung and cradling him in his arms in a way that makes Wooyoung sigh with satisfaction.

“Definitely better,” Wooyoung says. “I feel… more lucid. And it doesn’t hurt as bad.” In fact, at this point the pulsing heat in his body has dulled to a low thrumming, and he’s stopped leaking slick, too, thank god.

“Okay, I’m glad to hear that. I think you should try get some sleep. Maybe you’ll be able to sleep it off and wake up feeling fresh tomorrow.”

“Hopefully,” Wooyoung mutters. He peers up at San from below the wet towel on his forehead. He’s sure his face must be a mess, but he’s too exhausted to care. “Could you maybe… let me sleep here, with you, tonight? I think having, um, an alpha close by is making it less terrible.”

San pauses for a long moment, then nods. “Yeah, of course. I’ll just go take a quick shower, get changed and stuff, I’ll be right back.”

Wooyoung nods, eyes falling closed again. As soon as San isn’t in the room it makes him start feeling uneasy again, but luckily San had the foresight to leave one of his sweaters behind, so Wooyoung’s able to bury his face in the fabric and inhale the warm smell. Not as satisfying as having San next to him, but enough to keep the heat in his body to a minimum.

He thinks maybe he drifted off to sleep before San returned to the room, but he jolts awake when San climbs into the bed. He instinctively curls against his side, nose pressed against San’s shoulder as he breathes in deeply.

Immediately, he’s able to tell that something about San’s scent is different now. He’s not used to being able to tell much by his sense of smell, but now he’s able to pick up the individual layers of San’s scent, noticing that it’s a little sharper, a little more musky. Post-orgasm scent, his brain immediately supplies, which sends a throb through his body. It’s clear by San’s scent that he’d just jerked off, probably while he’d been in the shower, and now Wooyoung can’t stop picturing it. He has to mentally slap himself because San already said he doesn’t want to have sex with him, so there’s no point in yearning for that.

But _fuck_ , he wants him so bad it hurts.

The only plus side of how mentally and physically draining his day has been is that Wooyoung’s so exhausted he’s able to fall asleep surprisingly easily. But his sleep is restless, and he keeps waking up feeling increasingly hot and bothered.

The third time he wakes up, there’s no denying that everything’s getting worse again, even though San’s still lying next to him and he’d thought his heat was getting better.

He feels clammy, sweat dripping down his back and face and his cock has started throbbing again, hips instinctively grinding down against the mattress. It feels so good that he wants to sob, body hypersensitive and head spinning. San’s scent is surrounding him, but instead of being comforting, it’s making him out of his mind with desire.

His whimpers must wake San, because his eyes blink open, barely visible in the darkness. He takes one look at Wooyoung’s face – twisted with pain and humiliation – and sits up, brushing his hands through Wooyoung’s sweaty hair. It’s too dark to see him properly, but Wooyoung can tell by the spike in his scent that he’s aware of the sudden onslaught of omega pheromones.

“How do you feel?” San asks.

Wooyoung groans as a reply, shaking his head. “F-fuck. It’s worse than earlier.” Even San’s hands in his hair are making his body throb and stomach heavy, making him wanna have San push him roughly against the sheets and pound into him and-

Wooyoung wretches out of San’s grip, burying his face into his pillow. It feels like his skin is burning with the intensity of the heat in his body. And although earlier there had been an undeniably strong sexual element to how he’d felt, now it feels like he’s gonna _die_ if he doesn’t get off, if he doesn’t have something to fill him right now. He can feel slick leaking into his underwear again, and he needs San to _leave_.

“P-please go away,” he mumbles out into the pillow.

“What? No, I’m not leaving you alone right now-”

Wooyoung gives a frustrated groan, fisting his hands into the sheets. Resisting the urge to start jerking off is quickly becoming an impossible task. “San. Get out.”

Instead of doing that, there’s a rustling sound as San leans across the bed and flicks on the light on the bedside table, illuminating the dark room. “I thought you said my scent made it better?”

Wooyoung pushes up off the pillow, sure that how he’s feeling is written all over his face. “I’m being serious. Either fuck me, or fuck off.”

San’s eyes widen in surprise, and Wooyoung bites down on his tongue to stop himself from groaning as San’s scent darkens even more, clearly connecting the dots.

“I… I did some quick research about things that help during a heat, earlier,” San says, and Wooyoung wants to yell at him because he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t get to touch his dick within the next second. “And, um. It might help if-”

Wooyoung feels feverish in the worst possible way. He can hardly pay attention to what San is saying, delirious and so fucking horny he thinks he might be going insane. His hips jolt into the mattress, and he hopes San doesn’t notice the unintentional movement, although everything’s already so humiliating at this point that it doesn’t really make a difference.

“Well, it works with a piece of alpha clothing, or even better if it’s something that an alpha, uh…” San looks so embarrassed that Wooyoung would think it’s endearing if he didn’t currently feel like he’s dying, “um, came on. But it works best if the alpha is there themselves.”

Wooyoung doesn’t understand what the hell San is on about. “What?” he asks, mouth dry.

San’s definitely blushing. “Uh. If um, you know.”

“No, I don’t.” Wooyoung grits, trying his best to not jerk his hips forward because he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this fucking _horny_ before, and San really seems to think he’s capable of having a rational conversation right now.

“If you… pleasure yourself,” San says, and Wooyoung’s mouth falls open in shock. “While smelling alpha pheromones. It’s supposed to make this part of the heat go away, as an alternative to, um, sex.”

Humiliation pricks at Wooyoung’s skin as he considers what San’s proposing, but he can’t deny that the thought of doing something so dirty sends a tremor up his spine, making slick leak heavily through his underwear, sticking against his ass and thighs.

San’s nostrils flare, obviously able to pick up the scent, and he looks so fucking _hungry_ as his eyes lock with Wooyoung’s that for a moment Wooyoung wonders why he’d said that he doesn’t wanna fuck him.

There’s no way Wooyoung would ever be able to do this in his rational frame of mind, far too humiliated at the prospect of San seeing him so vulnerable. But right now he can’t think beyond the throbbing in his lower body, and the thought of being able to be held by San, surrounded by his scent, seems too good to be true.

“Is that okay with you?” he manages to ask, hands still gripping the sheets.

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t okay,” San’s voice is shaking a little, and Wooyoung wonders again how much this must be costing him. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”

Wooyoung nods, sort of wishing San would just agree to fuck him instead of all this. This seems like something he might be embarrassed about when he’s in a more coherent frame of mind, but that’s a distant concern right now, when all he can think of is his desperate need to orgasm as soon as possible.

San reaches over to switch off the light, darkness engulfing the room once again.

“Take off your shirt, and I’ll take off mine,” he says. “Skin-to-skin contact should help.”

Wooyoung doesn’t question him, immediately peeling off his sweaty shirt, the tiny part of his brain that is still capable of rational thought wondering whether this is some weird by-product of his heat, wanting to do anything to please his alpha.

San settles behind him, shirtless and in only his pyjama pants. He pulls Wooyoung’s back against his chest, similar to how he’d been holding him earlier, and Wooyoung can’t help his loud groan as his bare skin brushes against San’s, all of his nerves feeling like they’re lit up.

“Can you take off your pants and underwear?” San murmurs in his ear, and Wooyoung shudders as he nods.

He pushes them down his legs, grateful for the darkness. The sweet scent of slick that immediately fills the room is so overpowering that even Wooyoung can smell it. San groans low in his throat, hands tightening around Wooyoung as he pants against the back of his neck.

“You smell so fucking good,” San mumbles, voice thick, and it makes Wooyoung gush even more slick, dripping onto the sheets.

“San,” Wooyoung whispers helplessly, hands gripping San’s arm. “I want-” he doesn’t know what he wants. San inside him, definitely. But he wants to be filled with anything at this point, just to get rid of this awful emptiness.

“Touch yourself for me, yeah?” San murmurs into Wooyoung’s ear, and Wooyoung gives a sob as his fragile grasp on self-control snaps and he wraps his hand around his cock.

It’s so fucking filthy that it makes his head spin; him lying naked in San’s lap, jerking off in the darkness while listening to San’s heavy breathing in his ear, inhaling his scent. His hand moves slowly at first, testing the waters, but it feels so _good_ that he can’t help himself and soon he’s whimpering as the obscene, slick sounds fill the dark bedroom.

“How do you feel?” San asks, breath hot against Wooyoung’s ear.

His scent has impossibly become muskier with desire and Wooyoung fucking _aches_ with the desire to be filled, to have San fuck him into the mattress until he forgets his own name.

“ _Hngh_ , still hurts,” Wooyoung whispers. “Feels like- like ‘m empty.”

Wooyoung can smell the way San’s scent spikes at that, all of his senses attuned to San, wanting to know how his alpha ( _not_ his alpha – stupid omega instincts) is feeling. He has to clamp his mouth shut to stop himself from begging for San to fuck him again; this whole process is probably brutal enough for San as it is, and he doesn’t want to contribute even more to that.

“You could,” San starts, voice cracking, “you could try, you know, touching yourself there.”

His words send a throbbing pulse of arousal through Wooyoung, and he can fucking feel the way it makes his body produce more slick, like it’s trying to prove San’s point. The thought of being filled – even just by his own fingers – is so good that he suddenly feels unbearably empty.

And really, he’s already completely and utterly humiliated himself, so it’s not like he has anything to lose.

One hand still on his cock, he reaches down with the other to brush against his rim, ass clenching against nothing. He’s drenched with slick, body pliant and ready to be fucked, and his finger slips in easily as he lets out a low moan.

“F-fuck,” he groans, adding a second finger already because he fucking _needs_ it.

“That’s right, you’re doing so well,” San murmurs, breath hot against Wooyoung’s ear.

The praise makes Wooyoung whimper, his fingers moving steadily, building up a rhythm and feeling completely delirious with how good it feels to finally have something inside him, dulling the persistent ache. Even though he wishes he could have San’s cock or even San’s fingers instead of his own, the scent surrounding him from all sides is soothing, and it feels good enough that he’s almost able to forget how humiliating this situation is, embarrassment fading to the back of his mind.

Which has the unintended consequence of his moans flowing more freely, caught between little gasps and whimpers as he allows the pleasure to consume him. The heat is still present in his body, but it’s not as unbearable now that he’s filled and with San’s scent to ground him.

He’s fingered himself before, on occasion, when he’s craved that something _more_ , but it’s never felt as intense as this, the toe-curling pleasure making tears well up in the corner of his eyes.

“You’re so perfect, being so good,” San murmurs, sounding almost like he’s in pain, and his words make Wooyoung’s entire body throb.

He curls his fingers, trying to find his prostate, but the angle is wrong and his fingers can’t reach like this. And now he’s frustrated again, thoughts consumed by how much better an alpha would be able to do this for him, how useless his hands are compared to those of an alpha. He wishes San would help him, but he won’t ask because, even through the thick cloud of lust blurring all his thoughts, he’s aware that San’s already being incredibly kind by just offering to stay here with him.

He sobs, actual tears running down his face now because this is all too much, he’s never been this physically uncomfortable in his life and paired with how degrading the whole thing is, he just can’t take it. And while he feels a thousand times better with San there than if he’d be alone, it’s just not enough, everything he really _needs_ just outside his grasp.

“Fuck, don’t cry,” San says, helplessly wiping Wooyoung’s tears with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung sniffles, trying his best to get a grip of himself. But it’s hard when even just the fact that he’d stopped moving his fingers for a moment makes the heat in his body flare up again, everything hot and overwhelming.

“Don’t apologise. You’re handling this so well, being so brave,” San says, voice low and soothing. Wooyoung vaguely thinks that he might be deliberately doing this to calm him down, can feel his body instinctively reacting to the words of an alpha. “You’re going to get through this, it’s going to go away soon.”

“It will?” Wooyoung asks quietly, mostly just because he needs reassurance.

“Yeah, and I’ll be here for you the whole time. I’ve got you.”

Wooyoung gives a pitiful whimper, but his mind feels cloudy with the need to please his alpha, suddenly calmer and less worked up.

“You’ll feel better after you come,” San continues, rubbing small, soothing circles against the skin of Wooyoung’s arm. “Can you do that for me?”

Wooyoung nods, light-headed with the intense urge to do whatever San tells him. He starts moving his fingers again, body aching as he tries to find a pace that stops the pulsing heat in his veins. San’s dark, heavy scent feels almost like a drug, making his mind dazed and thoughts slow. He adds a third finger, neglecting his cock in favour of focusing on thrusting his fingers into himself.

“That’s right, you’re doing so well,” San whispers.

Everything is hazy, Wooyoung can’t think beyond San’s scent and voice and the feeling of his body and sweaty skin against Wooyoung’s. The room is a mess of aroused pheromones, both his and San’s, and every inhale pushes Wooyoung closer to the edge.

“You, _fuck_ , you smell so good,” San says, the words panted out between his heavy breaths.

“Alpha,” Wooyoung gasps out, clutching at San’s arm with his free hand.

San groans deep in his throat, almost a growl, rutting his hips up against Wooyoung’s back and seeming to lose control of his body for the first time. “Fuck,” he moans, wrecked.

Wooyoung barely feels able to speak coherently, so overwhelmed by the physical sensations and daze in his mind that’s solely consumed with thoughts of doing whatever makes San happy.

He can feel a deep pleasure building inside him, slowly but surely, made more intense by the heat throbbing in his veins. Even though he still can’t angle his fingers the right way, the sound of San’s panting against his ear is doing more for him than his own touch ever could.

Maybe San can smell it in the way Wooyoung’s body is fucking _gushing_ slick, the spike in his scent, or the way Wooyoung has tensed up on his lap, desperately pushing his fingers as deep as they can get.

Either way, he knows Wooyoung is getting close, grits into his ear, “That’s right. Come for your alpha, yeah?”

Wooyoung sobs as his orgasm tears through him with force, hips jerking forward uncontrollably. He shudders through the waves of pleasure consuming his body, San whispering praises in his ear that he’s too delirious to understand.

“Fuck,” Wooyoung moans. “ _Fuck_.”

His whole body is shaking, aftershocks of his orgasm making him tremble. And yet, even though he doesn’t think he’s ever come that intensely before in his life, he doesn’t feel satiated. He feels exhausted, definitely, and his body has calmed down enough that he’s gone soft (thank god, because he’s heard of omegas in heat that need to come several times to stop being hard, which sounds like a prospect worse than death right now). But he doesn’t feel like the deep, uncomfortable need that’s causing this fire in his body has been quenched.

“How are you feeling?” San asks, breathing so heavily it’s almost like he’d come too. Which definitely isn’t the case, because Wooyoung can feel that he’s still rock hard against his back.

Now that Wooyoung’s able to think more rationally, he’s able to admire that San has a will of fucking iron if he was able to keep in control of himself this whole time. No matter now unattracted an alpha is to an omega, resisting an omega in heat is nearly impossible.

“Better,” he mumbles, turning on his side, out of San’s hold, and curling in on himself, body still shivering. He does feel better, in some ways; the heat isn’t quite as painful, going back to being an uncomfortable sensation that can be ignored, and he’s not hard for the first time since his heat had kicked in.

But he also doesn’t feel great. Now that his mind isn’t delirious with lust and the need to please San, he’s ashamed beyond words about everything that just happened. He feels pathetic, like he’s just embodied all the omega stereotypes that he’s spent years trying to prove wrong. And the way his mind had gone blank, unable to think of anything except doing whatever San told him, has left a weird knot in his chest, making him feel blank and shaky.

Almost like San can read his thoughts, the next moment he’s being pulled into his arms again, this time in a full-bodied hug, San not seeming to be bothered by how sticky and gross Wooyoung is. “It’s okay,” he says quietly, and Wooyoung has the urge to cry again.

Without letting go of him, San reaches to grab one of the damp towels he’d used earlier to cool Wooyoung from the bedside table, gently wiping down Wooyoung’s chest and abdomen. Wooyoung doesn’t protest, too exhausted to do anything except close his eyes as San moves the towel lower, wiping some of the slick off Wooyoung’s thighs and ass.

“Thank you,” Wooyoung whispers. “For everything.”

“Try to get some more sleep, alright?” San says instead of answering, drawing Wooyoung against his chest again. “I’m going to be right here.”

Wooyoung’s eyes are already drooping shut as he lets himself melt against San. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

San’s started brushing his hand through Wooyoung’s hair soothingly, his other hand rubbing along his shoulder. “You have nothing to apologise for. I promise.”

Wooyoung nods, allowing himself to believe the words for now. San’s comforting, warm scent washes over him and starts making the weird feelings from before fade away, every inhale putting him more at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SO. there we have it. wooyoung survived his first heat and still somehow thinks san isnt in love with him but thats ok theyre both so silly arent they
> 
> i cant believe i updated after only a day lol this is prob my quickest update ever but i couldnt bear to leave yall hanging after last chapter. now some bad news: the updates have been super speedy bc 1) i had some chunks of this pre-written and 2) ive been on holiday technically, but unfortunately my uni semester is gearing up so im gonna have to buckle down for that which means slower updates :(( but i'll try to get them out as fast as i can!!
> 
> thank u as always to everyone who left a comment, i lov u all!! pretty pls consider leaving a comment and lmk what u thought, or catch me in my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/woosanists) and on [twitter](https://twitter.com/99wommy)
> 
> until (hopefully) soon xoxo


	5. it echoes

When Wooyoung wakes up, the pulsing heat in his body has finally subsided and he’s far more clear-headed than he’d been earlier. But he also feels completely disgusting, his entire body sticky with sweat and slick and come that neither him nor San had washed off the previous night.

_San._

Wooyoung glances at the boy in question, noticing immediately that his skin is pale and hair drenched with sweat. He actually looks quite visibly unwell, eyebrows pinched in a pained expression.

“San? Are you feeling okay?” Wooyoung asks softly, ignoring the soreness of his muscles as he reaches out to gently touch San’s forehead. It’s damp and burning hot, as though San has an intense fever.

San startles awake, seemingly jolted into consciousness by Wooyoung’s touch. He blinks, disoriented for a few seconds, then convulses against the bed, letting out a long groan.

There’s the thick scent of alpha pheromones in the air, even more intense than the previous night, and it makes something in Wooyoung stir despite the fact that he’s relatively sure his heat is over.

“Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_ ,” San is mumbling under his breath, quickly pushing Wooyoung’s hand off his skin as he sits up, his own hand on his forehead. “Shit. You need to leave.”

“What’s going on?” Wooyoung asks, feeling very much like he’s missing a key piece of information.

His mind has gone a little hazy with the onslaught of alpha pheromones, rousing the familiar stir of his omega side wanting to submit himself to San. He really hopes this isn’t going to be a regular thing around the other from now on, because him emitting subconscious horny omega pheromones whenever San so much as looks at him would probably not be great for their friendship.

San gives another pained groan, flinching back when Wooyoung reaches out towards him. “I’m, like, ninety-nine percent sure I’m about to go into rut,” he manages to say. “And I really, _really_ need you to not be here when that happens.”

Wooyoung stares at him, incredulous. “I thought you’re on suppressants?” he asks dumbly, as though he hadn’t literally been in the same situation last night.

“Alpha suppressants aren’t completely reliable,” San says, looking like he’s struggling to explain while clutching his abdomen. “That’s why alphas can still smell pheromones when they’re on suppressants. And I think being with you- uh, with an omega in heat has triggered a rut for me.”

Wow, Wooyoung really should’ve been paying more attention during his high school biology classes.

“I want to help you,” he says immediately. “You helped me last night, so I owe you.”

San shakes his head vehemently. “No. The best you can do to help me is leave and not come anywhere near me until this is over.”

“Why? I can-”

“No.” San repeats, firmly. “Trust me. No.”

“But you-”

“Look,” San says, face pinched and running a hand through his sweaty hair. “No offence, I mean this in the least rude way possible, but I don’t think you’d be able to resist the rut pheromones of an alpha. And I definitely wouldn’t be-” he swallows, “I won’t be able to hold myself back if I’m in rut.”

He makes a valid point. Wooyoung pretty much feels ready to offer himself up in any way San wants right now, and the other hasn’t even gone into rut yet.

But San has made it clear that he doesn’t want him like that, and, though the knowledge stings once more, the last thing he’d ever want is for San to do anything he’ll regret or to put him in an uncomfortable position.

Wooyoung stands up to leave, trying his best to ignore the feeling of dried slick between his ass cheeks. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”

San hesitates for a long moment, looking like he’s having an internal battle. “Um,” he says. “It would be amazing if you could get me a bottle of water and some snacks, and leave them in front of the door. And-” he cuts himself off, embarrassed.

“Tell me,” Wooyoung says, the guilt eating away at him that San had been able to help him so well and Wooyoung can’t return the favour.

“Maybe… maybe if you could, uh, leave the clothes you’re wearing right now?”

Wooyoung glances down at the gross, sticky clothes that he’s been wearing since yesterday, hazily wondering why San would want them when they’re just drenched with sweat and slick and- _oh._ Oh.

San would want them to help get himself off during his rut, the way his scent had helped Wooyoung last night.

“Y-yeah, that’s fine,” he says, trying his best to ignore the flare of desire in his stomach. The alpha pheromones saturating the room are already messing with his head, making him want so badly to get on his knees and prove to San that he can be good for him, that-

He quickly shuts down that train of thought, trying to get a hold of himself. San is breathing heavily, face now flushed red, a contrast to how pale he’d been earlier.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Wooyoung adds, stepping out of the room before San has a chance to reply. _Fuck_ , he’s getting hard again, and this time he can’t even blame it on his heat.

He’s not completely sure how he’s supposed to go back to how things were before once this is all over, but that’s something he’ll worry about later. For now, he focuses on getting several bottles of water from their shared kitchen, as well as all the snacks he can find in their cupboard. He strips off his disgustingly sticky clothes, trying not to think too hard about what’s probably gonna happen with them now, and pulls on a pair of boxers and a clean t-shirt. He’ll have to shower before he can get dressed properly, but that can wait until later.

Their entire apartment is a mess of pheromones, the air thick and uncomfortably warm. It’s a blessing that they don’t have any other roommates, because the smell has permeated into every room of their apartment, lingering most strongly around San’s room.

Wooyoung tries to not let that distract him as he gently places the water, food and slick-soaked clothes in front of San’s door, as San had requested. There’s something humiliating about leaving even his slick-soaked underwear there, but it doesn’t seem too bad compared to yesterday’s embarrassment. Besides, San had helped him so much, and this is the least he can do.

“I’ve left everything in front of your door,” he calls out, and San groans something in reply that Wooyoung can’t make out.

His legs are already feeling shaky with the onslaught of rut pheromones drifting through the door, heart beating fast in his chest. No, he needs to go back to his room. _Focus._

He goes back into his room and locks the door – not because he thinks there’s any possibility of San being so overcome with lust that he’d try to force his way into the room, unable to resist Wooyoung’s omega scent, which is something he’s heard horror stories of alphas doing. Rather, he’s worried about his own self-control, or lack thereof.

Wooyoung’s heat might be over, but he still feels uncomfortably horny, like an itch that he can’t scratch. No longer as clouded with the hotness and pain that he’d experienced while in heat, rather just the pure, incessant need to have San pin him down against the mattress and fucking _ruin_ him.

And, right now, he’s not sure whether he can blame that on his omega instincts.

* * *

San has been in rut a total of three times in his life.

The first time had been when he’d initially presented; a humiliating, confusing three days during which his fourteen-year-old self had barely understood what the hell was happening. The second time had been when he’d been sixteen and had stupidly forgotten to take his suppressants while on vacation with his family; that had been even worse than the first time, if only because he’d been exiled to the shed in the backyard of the beach house they’d been staying in. He’d never forget the trauma of having to force out orgasm after orgasm in the cramped room for eight hours, trying not to cough on the dust in the air.

Neither of those times had been as bad as this.

It feels like his skin is pulled far too tight over his body, everything sweaty and oversensitive and _holy fuck he wants Wooyoung so bad he’s actually going to lose his mind_. It’s like all his suppressed feelings and the thoughts he’d tried so hard to ignore last night are coming back to bite him in the ass with a vengeance. Every single breath he takes is with Wooyoung on his mind, the sound of his moans stuck in San’s brain on a torturous loop.

San curls into the sheets, damp with all sorts of disgusting bodily fluids, but he’s too tired to give a shit. He’s still half hard despite having made himself come at least six times within the past hour, he’s lost count. The smell of Wooyoung’s pheromones still linger in the room, although San’s scent has almost completely drowned them out. Which sucks.

But the fabric San’s still holding clutched in his hand – the clothes Wooyoung had been wearing – still have his scent weaved into it. It’s a painful reminder of Wooyoung in his arms last night, all the memories etched permanently into his brain. How sweet his scent had been, how soft his skin had been against San’s body, how his whimpers had sounded. How he’d called San ‘alpha’ when he’d been on the brink of orgasm.

That memory torments San the most of all. Far too close to things he’d never allowed himself to imagine, but now he can’t get it out of his head. It had been easier, San thinks, to pine when he’d only had his imagination to base his desire on. Now, everything feels too realistic, too intense, too much for him to handle.

He’s still hard, even though he’s so exhausted he can barely function. This fucking blows.

And the fact that he’d thought the whole lollipop incident in the car had been a test of his self-control. _Yeah, right_. That had been nothing compared to already being out of his mind with desire but still having to tell Wooyoung that he can’t fuck him, because he knew, rationally, that he was only asking because of the heat. It didn’t make refusing him any easier, though, especially because of how disappointed Wooyoung had looked, and how San’s alpha instincts had been screaming at him to claim the omega he’s been lusting after for so long. To make Wooyoung feel good in a way he knew he could do.

San must’ve been seriously evil in a past life to have to suffer like this now.

His mind is starting to feel hazier again, fatigue fading to the back of his mind and horniness taking its place. Just like all the other times, when San gets himself off, it’s with Wooyoung’s name on his lips.

* * *

To distract himself from the rut pheromones filling their apartment, and to clean himself from every trace of the disgusting physical residues from last night, Wooyoung takes a long shower. Long enough that the shame starts to kick in.

Even though San had reassured him countless times that he has nothing to apologise for or be embarrassed about, Wooyoung still feels mortified beyond words about what had happened.

He had _fingered himself_ while lying in the lap of his platonic best friend.

Yeah, that’s not exactly something he can just forget about.

There’s also no telling how this will affect their friendship, because friends simply don’t do this sort of thing. But the thought of losing San is so horrible that he can’t even let himself consider that as an option, which means they’ll just have to somehow rally from this. And, most importantly, Wooyoung will have to talk to his doctor because he still has no idea about why he’d suddenly gone into heat and this all sucks.

He switches off the valve of the shower, feeling marginally better now that he’s clean. He can pick up the vague scent of rut pheromones despite the fact that the bathroom is the opposite end of the apartment from San’s bedroom; it makes something in his stomach stir, but he does his best to ignore it.

Wooyoung needs to leave the apartment – the longer he’s here, the stronger the subconscious pull to go to San’s room gets. He’s not used to even smelling pheromones at all, let alone alpha rut pheromones, and he needs to get far away from here before he does something stupid.

With this in mind, he gets dressed and grabs a jacket and his keys, tugging on his shoes as he exits the apartment and locking the door behind himself. Even in the corridor, the scent of pheromones is extremely obvious, and he’s grateful that betas live in both the neighbouring apartments.

Although Wooyoung’s muscles are sore and he’s stuck with a heavy, lingering feeling of guilt and shame in his chest, being outside clears his mind. But he’s still worried about San and their friendship and how being an omega is shitty so he pulls out his phone to distract himself.

He shoots his doctor a quick text – along the lines of _emergency: went into heat yesterday and need to talk to you asap_ – and hopes she’ll be able to tell him how the hell this all happened in the first place.

He doesn’t even know how long an alpha’s rut lasts. This is all so fucking stupid.

Opening up google, he types in _‘alpha rut duration’_ and clicks on the Wikipedia article that comes up as the first result. It’s full of convoluted science words, but Wooyoung’s still able to get the gist of what San’s currently going through, and he can’t help the familiar stir of arousal in his gut. He really hopes that’s just his inner omega side reacting instinctively.

According to Wikipedia, a rut can last anywhere from a couple of hours to, in rare cases, a whole week; which isn’t very helpful considering Wooyoung doesn’t know whether he’s supposed to go back to the apartment tonight or ask Yeosang if he can stay over.

**wooyoung @ san (1.29pm)**  
hey i hope ur okay  
lmk if u need anything  
do u want me to stay at yeosangs tonight?

San doesn’t reply, which isn’t surprising. Wooyoung shoves his phone back into his pocket, glancing up when he feels someone’s gaze on him. He immediately recognises the guy staring at him as the alpha who had offered him his number before he’d gone into heat – he barely remembers the encounter, had been too delirious at the time to properly register what the alpha had been saying, but he’s pretty sure it was something about how he’s had a crush on Wooyoung for a while.

Feeling a little awkward, he gives a half-wave, turning away to avoid what he’s sure will be an uncomfortable conversation seeing as he’s still definitely not interested in the alpha, regardless of how attractive he is.

“Wooyoung? Hey,” the alpha – incapable of taking a hint – calls out, walking over.

“Hi,” Wooyoung replies, trying his best to smile politely.

“Are you, uh, feeling better?”

“Yeah, I am. Thanks.”

“I’m glad. I’m sorry that happened to you, by the way,” the alpha says, looking sympathetic. “I once went into rut during highschool gym class, so I know how it feels.”

Wooyoung gives a weak laugh, wondering how he can end this conversation without seeming like a dick. Even though he and San are _absolutely not_ in a relationship, it feels weird to have another alpha semi-flirting with him right now when he’d just been in San’s arms last night, albeit platonically.

Sort of.

If San murmuring ‘come for your alpha’ in his ear could be considered platonic.

“I’m sorry, what’s your name again?” he asks the alpha, feeling guilty when he sees hurt flash across his face.

“It’s Sungho. We’ve been in the same class for this whole semester.”

“I’m really terrible with names,” Wooyoung says quickly, which is a lie. He just doesn’t remember meeting this alpha, and he’s tired and not in the mood for small talk right now.

In what almost seems like a divine intervention of the universe in Wooyoung’s favour for once, Wooyoung’s phone starts ringing, interrupting whatever Sungho had been about to say. The alpha looks a little put-out by the disruption, but gives Wooyoung a friendly nod to indicate that he should answer the call.

_“Wooyoung? You went into heat?”_ It’s his doctor, her down-to-business tone sounding through the phone.

Covering the phone mic with one hand, Wooyoung says to Sungho, “Shit, I’m super sorry but this is an important call. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you around,” Sungho echoes, hands in his pockets as he starts walking away with a defeated expression that almost makes Wooyoung feel guilty.

Too preoccupied to dwell on that right now, Wooyoung starts walking down the street, not keen on having this conversation somewhere where he can be overheard. “Hi. Yes, unfortunately,” he says into the phone. “I went into heat for a few hours yesterday, but it’s over now.”

_“How on earth… that should be impossible. Did you forget to take suppressants? That’s out of character for you.”_

Sighing as he runs his hand through his hair, Wooyoung tries his best to explain the whole situation, from how he’d run out of suppressants to how he’d ended up taking Yeonjun’s ones instead.

The conversation ends up being half an hour long – with embarrassingly personal questions that make the lingering shame intensify such as how many times he’d orgasmed while in heat and him having to explain how exactly San had helped him – but at least he trusts his doctor enough to try and view the whole situation as clinically as he can, because he knows she’s just trying to help. And, as a fellow omega, she’s well aware of how uncomfortable Wooyoung must be feeling, softening her tone and reassuring him that it’s a completely normal and natural process.

In the end, they establish that switching to a different brand of suppressants so suddenly might have caused a shock to his body, causing him to go into heat. Even though omegas can switch suppressant brands, it’s usually done as a more gradual process, and never following a day off suppressants, which had already probably caused Wooyoung’s body to adjust for a potential heat.

Mortifyingly, Wooyoung has to answer whether anything happened the day he’d been off suppressants that might have caused a ‘biological response to an alpha’ from his body; the memory of that late-night drive with San in the car is a clear suspect. The doctor tells him that it’s likely all the above factors contributed to his unexpected heat, but that he should be fine from now on as long as he picks up a new batch of suppressants from the pharmacy and sticks to taking them regularly.

_“Heats can be dangerous for omegas, you know. You’re very lucky that you had your alpha friend with you.”_

“I know,” Wooyoung replies quietly, chest tight.

_“And it’s quite remarkable that he had such strong willpower, to make it through that situation without touching you a single time. He must really care about you.”_

“What do you mean?”

_“Well, surely if he didn’t care for you, he never would’ve deprived himself of pleasure after you requested for him to sleep with you.”_

‘Requested’ is putting it lightly; ‘begged’ would probably be a more accurate descriptor. Wooyoung stops walking, heart hammering. “Maybe he just isn’t attracted to me?”

He can hear the doctor laugh softly, a slight rustling audible in the background as she probably shuffles through the papers on her desk. _“Wooyoung. There’s not a single alpha on earth who isn’t attracted to an omega in heat. That’s the whole point of pheromones.”_

Even though Wooyoung desperately wants her words to be true, his brain is already poking holes in that theory, coming up with alternative ways to rationalise everything that had happened. “No. We’ve been best friends for ages, I’m sure he just didn’t want to risk messing that up.”

_”You know him better than I do, and I’m not here to pry on your personal business,”_ the doctor says, switching back to her down-to-business voice. _“I’m putting you down for an appointment on Wednesday, but pick up the suppressants from the pharmacy immediately. I’ve already written to them, so they should be expecting you.”_

“Thank you,” Wooyoung says, mind still stuck on what she’d said earlier. _He must really care about you._ He knows that much – but San cares about him as a best friend… right?

_“I’ll be in touch. Take care, Wooyoung. And remember, you handled this whole thing very well, and you have nothing to be ashamed about.”_

The words do nothing to dispel the heavy feeling in his chest. “Goodbye,” he says, and hangs up.

He realises that San had texted back while he’d been on the call, clicking on the notification.

**san (2.14pm)**  
hhey sry@  
no worries i think its almost donw  
Done*  
feel free stay nihgt here unless u wld rather go2 yeosangn

Judging by the sheer number of typos, San’s definitely still in rut. That, too, makes Wooyoung think of the doctor’s words – earlier, he’d offered to stay and help San in any way he needs, implying sex, and San had said no. Was that an indicator of how much he cared about Wooyoung, or simply him not wanting Wooyoung to get the wrong idea, knowing that they’d never be able to go back to how they used to be after crossing that barrier?

This is all so confusing. Wooyoung’s life had been much easier when his main concern had been attempting to write his essay while hungover.

**wooyoung @ san (2.26pm)**  
ok i’m picking up new suppressants from the pharmacy  
will be back in approx 20min

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEYRE STUPID I KNOW *hides*
> 
> i'd love to hear ur thoughts so please dont hesitate to leave a comment, theyre super motivating for me and the main reason ive been able to write much more recently xoxo
> 
> also pls ask me anything on [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/woosanists) and follow my  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/99wommy) for writing updates :p


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